Blood is Thicker than Good Intentions
by Rainmaker221
Summary: Tritus Amell only ever wanted to help, he only ever wanted to do right by his friends. Now he is left with little else but his role as Warden. He's failed too many people before, he will not fail Ferelden, he will not fail the Wardens. He will not fail his new family.
1. Origins

Tritus Amell woke on the day of his Harrowing expecting to feel different. After all, he was one test away from being a proper mage.

But he felt the same, his morning felt the same, his routine felt the same.

At least, that's how his day started.

Tritus wore his hair in a single braid down his back, though usually he braided his hair himself, with the aid of two mirrors. Today, however, Helena, the mother hen of the apprentices, insisted on braiding his hair for him.

"Are you sure you do not want something more elegant?" Helena asked, picking at the hair.

"I'm certain," Tritus said politely, "Thank you though."

Helena and Tritus had a long standing feud over his appearance. "No reason to look good," Tritus always said. "No reason to look like a slob," was Helena's long-standing response.

Helena being fussy wasn't new or strange. What was new was the stares being directed at Tritus.

It wasn't until breakfast that the stares turned into a mite bit more.

"This isn't right," Eadric, an elven apprentice, complained quietly.

"We need to prove ourselves capable," Keili chastised.

"It isn't the Harrowing I object to," Eadric clarified, "Pass or die, take it or become tranquil. We have done nothing to earn their ire."

Tritus merely ate his breakfast, deaf to the quiet argument around him. He scanned the banquet hall, looking for Jowen. Eventually he made eye contact with his old friend, who nodded and raised his cup at Tritus.

Too soon, Tritus was snapped out of his numbness by the booming voice of the Knight Commander, "Tritus Amell, we are ready for you."

As Tritus stood he said to his fellow apprentices, "Right or wrong, I'll succeed and be back later."

* * *

It's been said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and it was good intentions that led Tritus to the Grey Wardens, he wanted to help Jowen, his friend for as long as either could remember.

Jowen wanted to live in peace with Lily, and Lily just wanted to love Jowen.

But as soon as Jowen plunged a dagger into his hand, and used forbidden magic to escape, intentions became irrelevant.

Because Lily, for all her good intentions, was sent to the mages prison. For his, Tritus was facing execution.

And poor Jowen had to run from the only friends he'd ever known, watch as affection turned to hatred, because he had the best intentions.

If it weren't for Duncan and his writes of conscripts, intentions would have been the death of Tritus Amell.

But with luck, he would find a place among the Wardens, a place where good intentions are met with good results.

Though personally, he doubted it.


	2. Ostagar

_I will soon undergo the Joining and I can say with confidence that I am not afraid. I don't have much choice, I will either live or die. I no longer have a choice, and I refuse to spend my last moments panicked and afraid. What will be, will be, and what will be should be._

* * *

Tritus Amell woke a few hours after his Joining with a headache that could kill an ogre.

"It's not the most fun thing in the world," his observer, Alistair, said, "But you only have to go through it once, so there's that."

"Helpful," Tritus groaned.

"I have present for you," Alistair announced, tossing something at Tritus, "It's the armor of the Grey Warden mages, I thought you'd might find it useful."

"Thought of that all on your own did you?" Tritus said sarcastically.

"Well Duncan helped," Alistair deflected, "Now change quickly, you missed the meeting and we have our orders."

"Give me the short version," Tritus requested as he changed into his new armor, fumbling slightly at all the ties and straps.

"Cailan is optimist, Loghain isn't, Uldred is…"

"Wait," Tritus interrupted, his head still stuck in the torso of his new garments, "Uldred is here?"

"You know him?"

"He was one of my teachers," Tritus grumbled, finally finding his way though, "Very sure of himself, a bit of a bastard."

"He did kick up a rather large fuss about not using the mages enough," Alistair recalled, "but he didn't seem too bad."

"What are our orders?"

"We are to wait at the top of the Tower of Ishal, and light the signal beacon when the signal comes," Alistair said, clearly upset about something.

"Problem?"

"This isn't a job that requires two Wardens," Alistair explained, "We should be in the battle."

"These are our orders," Tritus assured the other man, reaching down to tie his boots.

"I know," Alistair sighed, "But if we're ever ordered to wear a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line."

"What's the Remigold?" Tritus said, waking to the tent's exit.

"Well, it's this dance favored by exotic -" Alistair was cut off upon exiting the tent. The camp was filled with soldiers, moving too and fro, shouting orders. "To the tower?" Alistair finished instead.

"To the tower." Tritus confirmed.

* * *

The Tower of Ishal was supposed to be empty, but it wasn't - instead it was filled with Darkspawn.

A fact which both Tritus and Alistair were rather annoyed by. Even after they scaled the tower and slayed the ogre at the top, their moods were soured merely by their own lingering presence.

"Burning Darkspawn smells awful," Alistair complained with a cough.

"I'd be worried if you liked the smell," Tritus responded, scanning the battlefield far below. "What's the signal?" he asked.

"We've likely missed it," Alistair said, rushing to the soon to be lit pyre, "I'll set it off."

A few moments passed, Tritus staring at the battle below, Alistair making sure the pyre didn't go out.

"Alistair," Tritus said suddenly, "What were we signalling?"

"Loghain's flanking charge."

"I don't think he understood his orders." Tritus frowned, "He's pulling his forces back."

Alistair rushed to Tritus' side. "What?"

It was a somber sight. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers, all of sound mind and body, turning their backs on their shield brothers, their own kind.

"We have to return to the battle," Alistair said, desperately making his way to the doors. "Maybe we can find…" Alistair was interrupted by the door exploding open. Tritus reached for his weapons, but was shot full of arrows before he could do anything, either with his spells or the dagger in his hand.

* * *

Tritus woke, and again, he had a splitting headache.

"Ah, your eyes finally open," A familiar voice declared, "Mother will be pleased that her efforts were not in vain."

"Morrigan," Tritus recalled, trying to sit up, "Good to see a friendly face."

"My face has been called many things, rarely friendly," Morrigan said, "How do you fare?"

"Sore," Tritus said, "I need to get out of the habit of waking up in places I didn't fall asleep."

"'Tis a common problem for you?" Morrigan asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

"Lately, yes." Tritus rubbed the wariness from his eyes, "What happened?"

"You were injured, and Mother rescued you," Morrigan explained with a roll of her eyes, "I thought I made that clear."

"No," Tritus clarified bitingly, "In the battle, the king, the Grey Wardens, the horde."

"Your king is dead," Morrigan said without a hint of kindness, "Save for your companion, outside, so are your fellow Grey Wardens. And, while it's progress seems to be slowed, the horde still moves."

"Alistair is alive?"

"The paranoid, dimwitted one?" Morrigan rolled her shoulders, "He is outside. He is not taking the news of Ostagar well."

"Neither am I," Tritus said, blank-faced, "Now, where's my blighted clothes?"

"You are awfully composed for someone taking news poorly," Morrigan observed, handing Tritus his uniform.

"My head hurts too much to show emotion," Tritus said, standing so that he might dress himself, this time with something resembling competence. "I'm sure I'll start crying later."

"Perhaps it can wait until after you leave?" Morrigan suggested. "I have dealt with enough guests lately."

"We'll be out of your hair soon," Tritus assured the woman, "Although it might take some doing, ragged and tangled as it is." Tritus left the room before Morrigan could retort, leaving her to shift her fingers through her hair.

She was confused by the insult, her hair was quite smooth.

* * *

"Why would Loghain do this?" Alistair shouted at the lake, his back to both Tritus and Flemeth, "We had the Darkspawn right where we needed them, they were almost destroyed."

"Now that is the question," Flemeth said ominously, "Men's hearts hold shadows deeper than any tainted creature. Perhaps…" The older witch began to muse, but was cut off.

"Stow it," Tritus snapped, "Loghain likely felt that our plan wasn't enough, and chose a way to conserve resources."

"The armies of Ferelden won't be enough, not anymore" Flemeth warned, "Not against the true evil that commands the horde."

"So there is an Archdemon," Alistair concluded, still staring at the lake.

"Indeed there is."

Tritus turned to face the witch. "We need to send word to other Grey Wardens."

"Cailan and Duncan already did, but they won't arrive soon enough," Alistair said forlornly, "And even when they try, Loghain will likely stop them."

"Then what can we do?" Tritus asked.

"Nothing," Alistair said, the trademark lightness to his tone long gone "We wouldn't be enough against a regular army, what can we do against Darkspawn?"

"We can't do nothing," Tritus argued, "We can't just give up."

"Well, what can we do?" Alistair shouted, "Because a Blight needs armies, all we have are the two of us, my sword and shield, your staff, and a pile of papers…" Alistair trailed off. "The treaties!" he shouted suddenly, light back in his voice.

"What treaties?" Tritus asked, egging the other man on.

"The treaties we were sent to reclaim, I still had them in my pouch in the tower." Alistair pulled them out. "Look, they compel others to help us! Dwarves, elves, the circle of Magi."

"These only have the authority people give them," Tritus mused, "Will these people honor them?"

"The Blight is an old and feared enemy and the Wardens have always stood against it." Alistair assured him, "They will be honored."

"Not by Loghain," Tritus pointed out, "With him still active, we will have an army that's scattered to the winds."

"Arl Eamon," Alistair shouted again, slapping Tritus on the chest. "He will help us, neither he nor his forces were at Ostagar."

"Pardon," Flemeth interrupted, "But this... dwarves, elves, mages, and Arl Eamon. Do tell me if I'm wrong, but this sounds like an army."

"It does." Tritus said, marveling at the treaties in Alistair's hands.

"It's also something the two of us can do," Alistair said, sporting a grin.

"Don't get too ahead of yourselves," Flemeth warned, "There is one last thing I wish to offer you."

"We welcome any aid." Tritus declared.

"Morrigan!" Flemeth called, "I know you've been eavesdropping, come out girl."

Morrigan approached the group, remarkably calm for someone being scolded by her mother, namely a mother like Flemeth.

"Yes, Mother?"

"The Wardens will be leaving soon…"

"Good, dinner is almost ready and I…"

"And you will be accompanying them."

"Do not wish for guests…" Morrigan trailed off. "What?"

"You have ears, last I checked," Flemeth laughed.

"We do not recruit the unwilling," Tritus said.

"I'd rather not recruit an apostate either," Alistair grumbled.

"Though she stops being an apostate when she's with us," Tritus reminded the man.

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan asked, sounding less outraged than her tone implied.

"You'd rather stay here with me?" Flemeth asked incredulously. "You've wanted to leave for years. Here's your chance." Flemeth turned to the Wardens, "And you, Wardens, in return for my saving your lives, you will end the Blight, and take Morrigan with you to ensure that you do."

"Fair enough," Tritus said, "Although I must ask what you hope for her role to be. I don't know what your agenda is, but the Wardens are not a political force."

"Her role is hers to decide." Flemeth said, though neither Warden believed her.

"It 'twould seem rather that my role is yours to decide," Morrigan scowled, "I can lie and reassure you of all your choices, or be your silent guide."

"I'd rather you speak your mind," Tritus told her.

"You'll come to regret that," Flemeth said with a laugh.

"If you might give me a moment to gather my things," Morrigan requested, "We can depart shortly."

* * *

 _Morrigan has directed us to Lothering, a small village of some note near the center Ferelden. She assures us that we will find value there._

 _I hope that between now and then, I find some inspiration on the specifics of our plan. There is much to do and so little time to do it. The coming winter will delay the Darkspawn but it cannot delay us. Yet traveling in the winter will be dangerous._

 _The only question is what matters most - haste? Or safety?_

 _Regardless, we have hope now, which is more than we had this morning._

* * *

Scribbled on the next page, which was wet with drool marks.

* * *

 _And a dog, we have that now, too._

 _I've named him Mathias._


	3. Lothering

_Lothering. If there were a word for "almost a city" it would be Lothering. Alistair has expressed an interest in staying, in helping. Morrigan is eager to leave, I believe, having phrased it, "Let's rest our feet and leave."_

 _I'm inclined to agree with Morrigan; we need information and a chance to find our bearings. The Blight will not end if we die assisting refugees._

 _I will likely lose what little sleep I get over this decision, but Alistair has lost his earlier enthusiasm. The weight of his loss presses down on him yet._

 _I wish I could help._

* * *

Tritus wanted one thing from Lothering - news. He wanted to know everything from idle gossip to reliable information. Morrigan was at the tavern, Alistair at the Chantry, so that just left Tritus and Mathias to explore the refugee camps. So far, Tritus had learned nothing except that people were despairing the Darkspawn. He also learned that Mathias had a bad habit of wandering off.

"Mathias," Tritus whisper-called, finally leaving the camps. "Why didn't I ever learn to whistle?" He lamented, before calling for his Mabari friend again.

Eventually he found his stalwart stray playing with another Mabari.

"Mathias, get away from him." Tritus ordered sharply, before his attention was diverted by an unfamiliar voice calling a familiar name.

"Tritus," the new female voice called affectionately, "Did you make a new friend?"

Tritus, the human, went still as a stone at the words, and remained that way until the other Tritus, the newly identified Mabari, leapt at the sound of the new voice.

Tritus, still human, was considering his options when he accidentally made eye contact with the new woman. She had shoulder length black hair, and she was likely a few years younger than himself.

"Can I help you with something?" The woman asked cautiously. She likely didn't trust him, which was fair, as he didn't trust her either.

"I was just looking for my dog." Tritus explained carefully, before addressing his Mabari, "Mathias, here boy." His wayward hound yelped, and sprang to his master's side. The young woman visibly relaxed at the sight.

"I didn't know anyone else in Lothering had a Mabari," she said casually, kneeling to pet her own pup.

"I'm new in town, " Tritus replied, still backing away slowly, before being stopped by the bite of steel against his back.

"Who are you?" The owner of the sword demanded.

Tritus waved a growling Mathias down, before the dog could do something rash.

"I am a Grey Warden, my name is…" Tritus tried to explain before being interrupted.

"The Grey Wardens died at Ostagar," The man at his back said, "Which makes you an imposter."

"Carver, calm down," the young woman demanded, holding back her furry friend, who had started barking at tense duo.

"As I said," Tritus tried again, "I am a Grey Warden, and I don't like being threatened."

"What are you going to do about it?" Carver scoffed.

A burst of energy surged from Tritus and a brief scuffle later, Tritus had Carver pinned to ground with a dagger at his neck.

"Are you ready to behave?" Tritus asked before again being silenced by the feel of a blade at his neck.

"Oh, when is he ever?" This was new voice, deeper and threatening despite the sarcasm, "And I'm sure you're right to be threatening his life," The blade was pressed a bit deeper into Tritus' neck, not enough to break skin, but enough, "But I would much prefer you put that dagger away right now."

"He pulled a blade on me!" Tritus declared.

"He does that." The young woman said.

"Can you put your sword away now?" Tritus requested.

"He and I share similar bad habits." The older man's voice said.

"How about now?" a fourth voice called, one belonging to Alistair, "Can you put your sword away now?"

Tritus craned his neck. He looked to the woman instead. "I can't see, what's he doing?"

The woman obliged him with an explanation. "Your friend pulled a sword on my big brother."

"He does that," Tritus repeated her earlier words.

The eldest sibling, as he had just been identified, suggested, "Right then, how about we all put our weapons away on three?"

Carver moaned into the ground, "I like that idea."

"One." Tritus started.

"Two." Alistair continued.

"Three," finished the other man.

Everybody put their weapons away and Tritus and Carver got off the ground.

"Right then," the sword-wielding, shield on his back, eldest sibling began, "Now that we're all bosum buddies, introductions. I'm Garrett Hawke," Garrett motioned to the younger two, "Those are Carver and Bethany, I forget which is which most days."

"This is Warden Alistair," Tritus continued the introductions, ignoring Carver's protests, "and I'm Warden Tritus, Tritus Amell."

At the sound of "Amell," The three sibling froze.

"Sorry," Bethany said, "Did you say Amell?" She took a few steps towards Tritus.

"I did," Tritus said, backing away slowly.

"Do you think it's really him?" Carver asked, looking to his brother for guidance.

"It's possible," Garret said, before addressing Tritus, "Do you know who your mother is?"

"I never knew my mother," Tritus clarified, "But the Circle told me her name was Revka."

The three siblings reacted differently, Carver froze, Garret let out a "Maker's sake," and Bethany hugged Tritus, something to which he did not react well.

"Alistair," he yelped in alarm, "What's she doing? Alistair! Help!"

"Bethany, let go of the poor man," Garrett laughed, pulling his sister away with a tug at her hair.

"What's wrong with you people?" Tritus demanded.

Alistair frowned at him. "You've lived a weird life if hugging is wrong."

"We're sorry about that," Garrett said, "Bethany just gets a little excited about this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?" Tritus demanded, still shouting.

"Family," Bethany said.

"You're our cousin." Carver added.

"On our mother's side," Garrett finished, "She'll be thrilled to see you again."

* * *

Tritus arrived at the Hawke homestead alone, having sent Alistair away with a hastily ordered, "Find Morrigan."

The introductions didn't go as well as anyone hoped. Leandra, somehow, recognized Tritus the moment she laid eyes on him. Like Bethany, Leandra went for a hug, but Tritus backed away.

"Please, stop trying to hug me," he requested, before being offered a seat and a cup of tea.

He sat quietly and listened to Leandra's story. How she met Malcolm and they ran away to Ferelden, how Revka had followed a year later, only to die in childbirth, and how he was raised with the Hawkes until was old enough to develop his magic. Even how he was taken away from them before they could run.

The Hawke siblings added their own commentary. Carver and Garrett told stories of the wonders they'd seen in Ferelden, whereas Bethany just kept finding ways to apologize.

"I developed my magic a year later. If we had discovered it sooner, the circle may not have taken you."

Tritus questioned her thought process, but didn't say anything. He sat there and listened, Mathias' head on his lap, and his cup of tea growing cold on the table.

The family finished their tale by offering Tritus and his companions a place to stay for the night. He accepted and requested someone to help him find the tavern.

Garrett accepted.

* * *

"A lot to take in isn't it?" Garrett said, breaking the previously uncomfortable silence. Tritus remained quiet.

"Sorry if we scared you," Garrett didn't seem sorry at all, "But you were like a brother to us, Bethany especially. She always blamed herself, thought Mother and Father tried harder for her than for you."

Tritus was silent for a few moments longer.

"I don't remember anything," he finally said.

"Not a thing?" Garrett asked, seeming surprised.

"Not even a flash or a vague feeling," Tritus clarified, "I think I might have remembered at some point, but I try not to dwell on the past."

"You've lived in the Circle most of your life, how much of a past can you have?" Garrett asked, lacking his usual tact.

"Keep a secret?" Tritus asked.

"Usually, why?"

"Your parents were right to keep Bethany out of the circle," Tritus said, "It's not a home worth having."

Garrett would have asked for clarification, but they had arrived at Dane's Refuge.

* * *

"Hear anything?" Tritus asked, having found Morrigan and Alistair at a table in the corner of the room.

"Wardens have been outlawed," Morrigan responded, "And these people are doomed."

"The two things might be related." Alistair joked.

"Well," Tritus said, "I found us lodgings for the night."

"Truly?" Morrigan asked, "How?"

Alistair answered for him. "He's got family here."

"Can they be trusted?" Morrigan wondered aloud.

"Of course, they can be trusted," Alistair said, ignoring Tritus' attempts to get them to shut up "They're his family."

The trio were interrupted by a loud - and probably drunk - lunatic.

"Finally! We've waiting for the second one all day."

"I know them," Alistair whispered hurriedly, "They're Loghain's men."

"Two Wardens Loghain sent us to find!" The man shouted and the tavern went quiet when a few others stood up. "And two Wardens we found. Surely we are blessed, right men?"

Tritus and Alistair stood and faced the growing mob, both trying to look tougher than they are. Suddenly, a redheaded woman garbed in Chantry robes approached to two groups.

"Gentlemen," she said with a thick Orlesian accent, "Surely they are just refugees, there is no need for fighting."

"They are Grey Wardens," The leader retorted, "Traitors to the crown. They, and anyone protecting them, will die."

"Shame," Tritus said, "Cause I like living, right Alistair?"

Alistair shrugged.

"We're Grey Wardens, how attached to our lives can we be?" he joked.

"Not enough apparently," Loghain's man, snarled. "Get 'em!"

The ensuing scuffle started mostly as fun and slightly short of harmless.

"I'm too sober for a bar fight!" Tritus shouted, ducking a right hook.

"They're not," Alistair replied. "Look at them," he pointed at one, "He can't even stand." He proceeded to topple the man over with only two fingers.

However, things got serious when Loghain's men started drawing blades.

"Could use a little help here," Tritus called to Morrigan after being slammed into her table.

"Use magic." Morrigan advised with a sniff, sipping at her drink.

"The Maker hates the lazy!" Alistair cautioned as he tossed a man down the nearby flight of stairs.

The fight started to veer in the direction of Loghain's men, until the redheaded laysister joined.

Then it was almost unfairly weighed in the Wardens' favor, to the point that the Wardens were hardly even fighting.

"Tritus, my friend," Alistair said, wide eyed as he watched the redhead, "I think I'm in love."

"Well, impress her," Tritus insisted, "Giver her a hand."

Which Alistair did.

"Are you going to leave your troops to fight on their own?" Morrigan asked.

"Nope." Tritus said, rejoining the fray.

Unfortunately, that was the last good moment of the night. The fight soon turned bloody, when all was said and done, both Alistair and Tritus got nicked, and all but one of their attackers lay dead.

"So," Tritus said, turning to the lay sister, "Who are you? And are you looking for work?" He was sporting a grin a mite too large for someone bleeding profusely from his side.

"My name is Leliana, and indeed I am, monsieur." Leliana was also grinning, wider than she should, considering Tritus soon passed out at her feet.

* * *

 _Last Night I saw a lay sister slit a man's throat and that wasn't even the most exciting part of my day._

 _I don't know how I feel about finding out I have family. They seem like good people, but they are strangers to me, and I am so much more to them. I don't know what's to happen next, but a part of me hopes that after we depart, I will never have to see them again._

 _Leliana seems to be a good woman. She is certainly a good fighter. Beyond that, I can't get a read on her. There's a certain air about her, I'm almost afraid of her._

 _Note to self: stop waking up in places you didn't fall asleep, it's bad for your health._


	4. Hubris

_The Chantry teaches us that it is the hubris of men that caused these blights. Men, mages, wished to usurp the Golden City, and instead destroyed it._

 _I don't give much credence to the idea of a Golden City, but the hubris part I can believe._

 _At Ostagar, it was Loghain's hubris that made him think that only he could defeat the Blight, just as it was King Cailan's to believe that we could destroy the blight in one fell swoop._

 _My only concern is whether it is hubris to believe that I can end the blight._

 _Only one way to find out._

* * *

Tritus and his companions left Lothering as the sun rose.

At first, only Garrett was awake to see his wayward cousin off.

The farewell was awkward, but Tritus did seem to try. He hugged his cousin this time. It was brief, awkward, and painful to watch, but it was a hug.

It was the intention of Tritus to leave without making any waves, whoever these people were to him, it was best to leave without making such a big deal out of things.

That was his intention, at least. Unfortunately, Bethany was a light sleeper

"I want to go with you." Bethany said, having all but jumped out her window to catch up with Tritus.

Tritus regarded his cousin with abrasive eyes, before turning to his envoy.

"May I have a moment alone, please?"

"I want to help." Bethany insisted.

"No," Tritus said, "Go home, look after your family."

"I didn't know the Wardens had a habit of turning down aid," Bethany snapped.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Tritus offered, "But you don't give a fig for the Wardens, you want to rid your family of the burden of your magic?"

Bethany's retort seemed to stop in her throat.

"Joining the Wardens is a death sentence," Tritus continued, "and trust me when I say your family would rather have you with your magic, then you to die trying to be rid of it."

"How can you be so certain?" Bethany cocked her head to the side.

"I feel it in my blood," Tritus responded with a casual shrug.

"It's my choice."

"Actually, it isn't." Tritus reminded her. "It's mine, and I'm telling you to go home." He turned to his companions, waiting a ways away, and started towards them.

Bethany shouted after him, "What gives you the right to decide for me?"

"Warden job, Warden's choice." Tritus called, not turning back.

* * *

"Who's this, then?" Alistair said, passing the prisoner cages of Lothering.

Within the cage was a mountain of a person, shirtless, with grey hair braided backwards in strands.

"He is a Qunari." Leliana answered, "He was found in a farmhouse of a murdered family, he does not refute the accusations."

"He also a has ears," the mountain replied, "And I will amuse you no more than your predecessors"

"I apologize for our rudeness, ser." Tritus said, stepping forward. "I am Warden Tritus," he gave a brief bow, "Might I ask your name?"

"You mock me," the mountain said sternly, "Or you show me manners, a rarity in your country." The mountain grew quiet, but seemed to reconsider his stance. "Regardless, I am Sten of the Beresaad, much as it matters now."

"Why would you forsake your title?" Tritus asked, ignoring the surprised glances his companions shot him.

"I soon will die." Sten said, likely also surprised at Tritus's knowledge of the Qunari, though showing significantly less signs of it. "I do not see how I will matter to you after that."

"Were you sentenced? Or is this a byproduct of being left behind" Tritus asked.

"There was no trial." Sten answered.

"Twood be a shame," Morrigan interjected, "For such a specimen to be wasted in a cage. We should free him."

"How merciful of you." Alistair said, surprised.

"And leave Alistair in his stead."

"That's the Morrigan we know and loathe."

Tritus was still staring at the Qunari, who was meeting his gaze. Neither flinched at the other.

"Thoughts?" Tritus requested.

"Be careful, monsieur," Leliana responded, "He killed that family, seemingly without reason."

"He can be useful." Morrigan rebutted.

"Alistair?" Tritus prodded.

"What's one more misfit?" Alistair said with a shrug.

Tritus stepped closer to the cage, and stared at the Qunari for a few moments longer.

"Do you regret what you've done?"

"My regret is meaningless, it is what I've done." Sten answered proudly; he seemed unconcerned with the consequences, or at least at peace with them. "As such my life is forfeit."

"I offer you atonement, rather than retribution." Tritus replied.

"My death will be my atonement." Sten said.

With that, Tritus was finally getting a feel for the Qunari. "Must your death be here, or will your atonement be complete fighting the Blight?"

Sten considered it for a moment.

"I would rather die in battle," he eventually admitted.

"Anyone know how to pick a lock?" Tritus asked, turning to his companions.

"I do, monsieur." Leliana said, stepping forward.

Tritus decided not to question how a chantry sister knew how to pick a lock. It had been a long enough day already.

* * *

The sun was starting to set when Tritus stopped his little caravan.

"Break for camp." Tritus ordered looking around, "Alistair, any chance you can set up some improvised shelter?"

"Might need some help chopping wood." Alistair admitted.

"Sten?"

"I will assist as I can."

"Morrigan, establish a perimeter, make sure we're alone."

"Oh, goody." Morrigan scathed, though she took off anyway. Literally, as she turned into a raven and left.

"Did you know she could do that?" Alistair asked, trying to track the bird.

"Let's say yes." Tritus said, not skipping a beat, "Leliana?"

"Yes monsieur?"

"You and I are on dinner duty."

Everybody took off to fulfill their respective jobs. Tritus and Leliana started by taking stock of their supplies.

"Alistair had the foresight to pick up some supplies," Tritus said, ruffling through the pouches of ingredients.

"These are very simple ingredients." Leliana observed.

"We don't have much of a budget," Tritus explained to her, pulling out a couple of tomatoes "We're lucky we don't have to go hunting. I don't think anyone save Mathias knows how."

"I am not bad with a bow," Leliana offered, "I could try hunting."

"We'll get to that when we have to. Let's start with what we have. What can we use."

"We should start with the perishables," Leliana suggested. "The tomatoes and a few other things, and we shall have a passable soup."

"Please tell me you can cook," Tritus begged her, "I am not an expert at this."

"Of course," Leliana said, rolling her eyes. "I am Orlesian."

"I don't know what that means."

"Just get a fire started, if you please."

Soon there was a roaring fire in the center of camp. And after a few choice picks by Leliana, the smell of tomatoes and spices flooded the area.

"Do not stir too much," Leliana instructed, "Or the soup will not settle and cook properly."

"I know how to stir," Tritus assured her, grinning at the soup, "The circle taught me potion making well enough." He gave the soup three clockwise stirs, before giving it another three counterclockwise.

Tritus was too busy grinning at his supper to notice the curious glances Leliana was casting him.

"Might I ask you a question?"

Tritus relented. "If you must."

"You are a mage, correct?" Leliana led.

"Was it the staff or the armor?" Tritus asked.

"The armor," Leliana answered, grinning at the Warden's sarcasm, "I just wish to know how you knew the Hawkes. You said they were family?"

"Cousins, apparently." Tritus shrugged, still staring the soup. "They knew me before I knew them."

"Do you remember nothing of them?" Leliana asked.

"I might have, once." Tritus said, suddenly solemn. "The Circle is a bad place for ambition. It's easier to forget."

"I disagree," Leliana refuted, shaking her head. "Life wasn't always easy for me, but I found comfort in the good memories."

"Such as?" Tritus asked, innocently setting the stirring spoon to the side. "What kind of family do you have?"

"One I can hardly remember." Leliana smiled wistfully, "Now all I can recall is the smell of flowers. Andraste's Grace."

"Aren't there parts of your life you wished you'd forget though?" Tritus asked, suddenly returning to the point. "I'm guessing an Orlesian lay sister in Ferelden has a bit of a story to tell how she got there. Wouldn't it be easier if you were always a lay sister?"

"Simpler, but not better." Leliana said confidently. "I am content with who I am, and that would not be so without the life I've lived until now."

For a few minutes the duo sat in silence.

"Your soup is boiling over." Leliana eventually pointed out.

Tritus scrambled to stir the pot and cool the soup with a hurried, "Blighted soup."

When he finally got the supper under control, he looked up at Leliana and smiled. His eyes were warmer than she'd seen yet.

"It seems, Leli, that I have more to learn from you than how to cook supper."

* * *

Tritus approached Alistair with a bowl and a spoon.

"An apology," Tritus offered.

"I accept." Alistair said, accepting the soup. "But what are you apologizing for?"

"For having to talk business," Tritus explained, "We need an official chain of command."

"Why's that?" Alistair asked. "There aren't enough of us to require that."

"No," Tritus replied, tilting his head in acceptance, "There aren't, but others will expect that of us. We need more than treaties, and a 'please help us.'"

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Either you need to step up and take official command, or step back and let me," Tritus explained. "Either way, I'm fine. We just need to be on the same page."

"Well, I'm fine with following," Alistair admitted, pulling the bowl up to face to slurp its remnants.

"As long as you're certain."

"I'm certain," Alistair said, "You've given me no reason not to trust you."

"You trust easily," Tritus observed.

"I trust my instincts." Alistair defended himself. "My instincts say you're the good sort."

Tritus nodded at that.

"I have first watch tonight," he said. "Someone will wake you when it's your turn."

* * *

 _My army grows._

 _My companions are wary of Sten. I have read extensively of the Qunari, but I dare not assume to know their people from these readings. I trust that should Sten choose to betray us, we will at least see it coming. He will let us know what we have done to anger him and we will have a chance to atone._

 _I find the lay sister intriguing. She is a talented fighter, cook, and locksmith. A picture forms, but of what I am uncertain._

 _I hope I can sleep tonight. I am unused to sleeping outdoors and something about this place makes me uneasy. Something's wrong._

 _I can feel it in my blood._


End file.
